


Toy Soldiers

by MSpataro210



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Affectionate Finn, Affectionate Poe, Boss Leia, Cute Finn, Finn in a Coma, Flustered Poe, M/M, Nurse Poe, Oblivious Finn, Poe's squad backs him up, Recovery, Rey and BB-8 know what's up, humor angst all rolled into one, might delve into some M stuff later on, multi-fic so stay tuned, squad antics, will most likely be slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fight, they break, they get back up again.  Some might need more time than others, but soon enough they work again.  Thankfully they have others to help them through it.<br/>Back in the First Order, Finn would never have made it after suffering a wound like that-would have been left there to die.  But he's not in the First Order anymore, he's with Poe, in the Resistance.  Where he learns more about friendship, and about life.  It's hard trying to relearn after 23 years of commands and propaganda have been drilled into his head.  Thankfully he has people like Poe, Rey, even BB-8 to help him not only heal his body... but his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toy Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> I have become a man possessed... but this ship is definitely one of my better ones.  
> At least... one with the most traction.  
> I love writing them and this idea, among others, was something I wanted to see played out with words... so I hope you'll enjoy the ride we take as this gets fleshed out!

            The electrocardiograph machine beeps: pounding out a static rhythm that rings in his ears. It is in time with the respirator that squeezes oxygen into the prone body, seemingly slower with each pump. These two, along with the other sounds of the hospital wing, form a symphony of trauma. It is the everyday music of people and technology at work.

            How Poe hates it.

            He sits, still in his flight suit and gear, sweat and dirt on his face and with tired arms on his knees. The seat is uncomfortable, but his own needs are far from his mind. As is the party being thrown for him and all the others who fought and gave their lives to destroy the Starkiller. Sure, he can still hear the sounds of the crowd: bottles of alcohol being popped open and the celebratory cheers. It’s just… not important, to him at least. Not if everyone can’t join in the party.

            Not with Finn, lying on the bed with tubes and pumps coming in and out of everywhere.

            His usually dark skin looks paler under the bright, fluorescent light: all the blood slow flowing in his veins. His usually large frame looks small in the mint green gowns and snow-white sheets. Like if he even touched him, something Poe wants, Finn might shatter before his very eyes.

            Something Poe doesn’t want.

            It’s just the two of them in the private room, the doctors and medical droids, and even a big, furry Wookie having left them be. Having finished what they had to do, having seen what they needed to see.

            Poe still hasn’t seen what he needed: two bright brown orbs, alive and well, looking right back into his. Letting him know that everything is okay.

            He rubs a fist over his eyes, finally closing them for what seems like forever. He tries to stifle a yawn, but it too joins the cacophony of sound in the room.

            Poe hasn’t taken his eyes off of Finn since he spotted him being wheeled away from the tin hunk known as the Millennium Falcon: the giant, graying Wookie and a smaller, tanner girl by his side. The girl dropped off from the company soon enough, being whisked away by the command.

Poe never faltered. He made it to Finn’s side in parsecs the moment he popped the lid on his X-wing: not even having finished landing before bursting from the aircraft.

            He kept up with gurney, even with all the pushing and pulling by the medical team. How the nurses tried to keep him at bay, blocked him as he tried to advance. When they needed more hands on deck, Poe found he could easily slip on by once the number of hands holding him back lessened until they were non-existent.

            Dirty looks may have been fired his way once or twice, but it’s not the worst he’s been through: especially not today. He ignored them all, only focusing only on the person they were working on. The person he was there for.

            The person who had him caught in a tractor beam by doing absolutely nothing.

            The man that had saved him, betraying all he had known, without even knowing him.

            Finn, the guy he’s only known for a handful of hours, yet yearns to learn more.

            Poe feels a constant tugging, staring at Finn: an emotion he knows but can’t really name that draws him ever closer to the ex-stormtrooper.

            He can feel it inside, just like he can feel the eyes that are burning into the back of his head.

            “You can come in you know,” he croaks, voice rough, “I don’t have a monopoly on visitation.”

            “Visitation has been over for an hour.”

            He jumps, standing at attention for his General.

            “General Organa,” Poe salutes, “I’m-I’m sorry… I’ll go-“

            “Don’t,” she cuts him off, “Stay.” Poe releases the breath he was holding, slumping forward a fraction.

            “And please,” she grimaces, continuing, “don’t be so formal… not today.”

            Poe can see it in her eyes. Can see the hurt and loss and the ghosts that swirl inside. He heard all about the casualties: and the one that must have hurt the most.

            “Leia…” he whispers, hand outstretched in a show of comfort. She leaves it hanging there.

            “Please,” she stops him, “I am not the only one to lose someone today… there will be a time when I will mourn… alone. But the Resistance still needs a leader.”

            Poe redraws his hand, nodding, in awe of his leader. Leia smiles, eyes moving around Poe to the other occupant in the room.

            “How’s our newest recruit doing?”

            Poe turns, trying to muster all the hope he can into his next words.

            “He’s… he’s stable,” he says, “the doctors say he’s in a coma… forcing his body to rest while he recovers… they just don’t know how long he’ll…” He trails off, staring at Finn’s body until a shake disrupts him.

            Leia is at his side now, hand on his shoulder. “He’s a fighter, has to be to survive a lightsaber through his spine,” she tells him, “don’t lose hope now.”

            “I won’t,” Poe says half-heartedly, wanting to stay strong for Finn but also so tired from… everything.

            “You can’t,” she affirms, “especially since he’ll be needing you.”

            Poe blinks: “Me?”

            “Yes, you,” Leia smiles, “you are the only one he knows. His only… friend.”

            “That’s… that’s not true,” Poe blushes, “there’s the girl-“

            “Rey?” Leia interrupts, “She’ll be leaving shortly, to find my brother, Luke. She asked me to take good care of Finn… and who better than my best and most trusted soldier?”

            “Well… anybody?” Poe guesses, trying hard to get Finn the proper care he needs. Sure, he likes the guy: his laugh, his smile… his face. But… he’s been trained to fly planes, not dress wounds! He’s the worst possible candidate for the job, no matter each time he thinks about it finds himself warming up to it. It’s out of his league… miles out of his comfort zone…

            “Doctors and nurses, and even medical droids can only do so much,” Leia informs him, “but they can’t sit with him, keep him company, and help him find his way back.”

            “But…” Poe replies, “how?”

            “Talk to him,” she says, “let him know you’re there. It’s a start, but it’s what’s needed.”

            “I-I can do that?” Poe asks.

            “And more.”

            Poe looks back down at Finn, imagining him looking like he did before. Maybe when they both ran into each other at the base. He looked so happy, wearing his jacket. A jacket that lies draped over the trash can with a garish burn mark and bloodstain. Every time he looks over at the thing he wants to grab it, only to see the wounds and gag.

            Slowly, timidly, Poe reaches a hand out. He goes for the closest body part, tightening his grip around Finn’s limp fingers.

            Relief washes over his body, just being able to touch him. He didn’t know what would happen if he did: whether it might cause more harm than help. He’s glad it’s the latter.

            “It’s…. it’s a start,” he mumbles to himself.

            “What was that?” Leia asks.

            “I’ll think about it,” Poe says instead, eyes focused on Finn, re-finding his seat. He doesn’t let go.

            “Sure,” Leia backs away, an almost smile on her lips. She turns to leave, but not before sneaking a quick peak back at the two. A flicker of a memory passes: like looking through a distorted mirror.

            The smile turns sad.

            She leaves the room, leaving nothing behind but a fallen teardrop.

            On her way back to the command station, she runs into Commander Connix.

            “Connix,” she says, “I need you to change the schedule for Pilot Dameron.”

            “Ma’am?” Connix replies, confused.

            “Until further notice, he is to be stationed in the medical wing, as the private nurse of the patient in Room 2187.”

            And in Room 2187, there are two men. One lying on the stiff cot while the other holds his hand, clears his throat, and begins to tell a story: something simple, from his youth.

            And as the night progresses, there’s only one voice in the room.

            But two sets of ears listen.

**Author's Note:**

> Good?  
> Let me know with kudos, comments, or the occasional rose tossed at the computer screen.  
> No tomatoes though.


End file.
